The House
by Glisseo
Summary: There's about to be a new Potter in the world, and James and Lily might just have found their perfect home.


It isn't a big house. It's a cottage, really, with its honey-coloured stone walls covered in creeping ivy, which curls around the windows and embraces the bright red door, the door they can already imagine hanging a wreath upon. A pebbled path winds up the drive and curves off to the pretty front lawn, where a wooden swing seat nestles in the shade of a cherry tree. There's no blossom now, but there will be.

It's a cold day, and they hasten inside as the first raindrops start to fall. It won't be long before those raindrops turn to snowflakes. It's not hard to picture the cottage covered in a blanket of thick white snow, windows sparkling with frost. James Potter smiles as he thinks of the winters to come, building snow-wizards in the garden and dragging sledges out to the nearby fields. He glances at his wife's stomach, hugely rounded beneath her cloak, and his smile widens.

She's glowing with happiness, bright eyes taking in the warmly lit hallway, marking the spots where their photographs will hang. A door to the left leads into a spacious kitchen, white cupboards and smooth pine work surfaces and a scrubbed wooden table ready for years of family meals. Through an archway is a small, light room with French windows backing on to the garden. Eager eyes sketch in a swing set, a broom shed, a paddling pool in the summer. Through to the rounded living room, and they take in the fireplace, the space where the Christmas tree will go. All eyes are shining; they can't imagine a more perfect place.

Upstairs there are three bedrooms. James and Lily beam at each other as they make their way to the room adjacent to the master bedroom, the room which will soon hold a cot, and a life. Then it's along the landing to the bright room overlooking the garden, the room which requires a stamp of approval.  
"Well?" James asks.  
"Mine?" says Harry, face flushed with excitement. "My room?"  
"Your room," Lily confirms, running her hand through his soft black hair. She longs to pick him up and swing him around as James does, with such ease, but he knows why she can't. As if sensing her train of thought, he presses his small hand to her stomach, bright face peering up at her.  
"And baby can't come in?"

James snorts. Lily carefully crouches down to Harry's level, her heart swelling as his green eyes meet hers.  
"You'll have to make a sign," she tells him, "saying 'no babies'. And then the baby will have to stay out. But the thing is, sunshine, the baby might make a sign too. That says 'no Harrys'. Then you won't be able to go in the baby's room."  
"What!" Harry exclaims in indignation. "I can go where I want! My house!"  
"It's the baby's house too, mate," James explains reasonably. "Or at least, it will be." He bends down to join his family on the floor, and Harry immediately scrambles into his lap, face contorted with deep thought.  
"Baby can come in my room," he says eventually. "If he knocks first."  
"It might be a girl, sunshine," Lily starts to say, but Harry shakes his head.  
"No. Sorry. That's not allowed. Don't have a girl, please, Mummy."  
Lily tries not to laugh, but looking at his sweetly earnest little face, it's impossible. "I'll do my best, but I think you might like having a sister."  
"_You _don't," James mutters, and Lily shoots him a look.  
"When are we coming to live here, then?" Harry asks his parents. "Before Christmas? I want Christmas here …"

"Definitely," says James. "It might take a bit of time to leave Godric's Hollow, but we'll be here for Christmas, don't you worry."  
"Last Christmas before baby comes," says Harry, suddenly thoughtful again. "When's he coming?"  
"January," Lily reminds him. "Not long to go now."  
"January's _ages_ away," Harry corrects, slightly relieved. "What colour can I paint my room? I think red, or blue, or green –"  
"Red," James says immediately. "Gryffindor red!"  
"Gryffindooooor!" Harry whoops, and reaches out to his mother's stomach again. "Baby," he whispers, "you're going to Hogwarts one day. Like me, but I'm going sooner because I'm older and you must respect me."

He pauses, then lowers his voice.  
"And I don't mind if you're a girl."


End file.
